This isn't MY poem but I like it.... Also I don't know if this is technically funny or not...

" As a friend to the children commend me the yak, you'll find it exactly the thing!It will carry and fetch, you can ride on it's back or lead it about with a string.The tartar who dwells on the plains of Tibet, a desolate region of snowhas for centuries made it a nursery pet, and surely the tartar should know!Then tell your papa where the Yak can be got, and if he is awfully richHe will buy you the creature, or else he will not, I cannot be positive which!"That is "The Yak, by Hillaire Belloc"

Here is a poem-type thing I wrote a few days ago. I was reading a book called, "The Seven Tales of Trinket", and one chapter inspired me a bit. (P.S., the song was in the book, and the melody I sing it to is the lullaby in Brave) Here it is:

Silver Song

Faint moonglow shines on the selkie's isle. The silent sounds of sky and sea; the rushing waves, charging and breaking on the smooth sand; the wind whistling as only the wind can, over the rocks, through the coves, into the seals; the seals, with their wakeful eyes, large and liquid, reflecting the moon.

A girl, young and wondering, settles on a rock. She has a harp of bone and hair, clear and sweet, pure and soft. She strums the harp, the sound gliding smooth as water over the rough stones, singing faintly with the tones of the stars. She sings, and her lilting music dances to the selkies, drawing their attention like a mother's lullaby.

And this is the song the girl sings;

Come lay your heid, come lay thee downUpon my knee of woolen brown.

A song I shall sing of salt and seaOf waves and foam, lad come with me.

A song I shall sing, of salt and sea,Of waves and foam, lad dream with me

The spray is soft, the moon so brightCome lay your heid, and rest tonight.

Selkie children curl against their mothers, slipping into sleep as silent boats into water. Mother seals blink slowly, joining their babes in dreams. The girl sings as the pale moon slips below the sea, as the stars fall asleep, as the silver of night gives way to the gold of morning.

We did some art today, (learning about Henri Rousseau) and this is a picture I made. I also had to make a story to go with it, so this is it. It is kind of like a poem. IMG_0789.JPG2592x1936 1.1 MB

The wind-whipped savanna grass waves and ripples like a pond in a high breeze. The tree sways, but still I perch. I perch, and watch the hyena creep through the layered mass of swaying chaos. He thinks I do not see him, but soon I will fly away, clucking and screaming and flapping. But not yet. First I will watch. I will watch the tall grass whip around the rock, angry because it cannot grow on top of it. I will watch the storm blow in, darkening the vast savanna. There are flashes in the clouds, but they do not make the darkness lighter. One flashes now, making the land stark and exposed for only a moment. I watch gazelles and zebra, running in terror. The tree is on a high hill, and I can watch everything. On this hill the sun still shines, hot and bright. But soon, it will hide behind the clouds, dark but even hotter. It might rain, and it might not. The hyena is closer now. I will fly soon. But not yet.

I moved this here, because it was lost in the oceans of Random Anything....

Um, so I may have written another huge poem, because @Ariella_Newheart dared me to? Here it is....

The Steampunk CatYou want to me write a poem, you do?Well beware of the One-Man Writerly Zoo!You honestly think that you gave me a challenge?I’m an expert at this, nay I don’t even cringe!So before I write this epic adventure,And check all my spaces and lines and indentures,I’ll have you know, I’m an expert in rhyme!(And because I’m a writer, an expert in crime!)

Well, once on a time, there was a man named Lukas.His inventions ranged from Egg Hats to Aether-Bazookas.You’d think that the time spent on his creationsWould show him a man of singular inclinations.But this was not true, he had one fatal quirk,For all sorts of kittens, Lukas went quite beserk!Especially one, his pride and his joy,He bought it new beds, scratching posts, and new toys,And he loved it more than anyone could,For besides being cute, this kitten was good!He fed and he raised it and trained it with care(Even though oft it would sit in his hair)But then came the day that all of us feared:”Help meh!” Lukas said. “Mah cat’s disappeared!”We panicked, we did, as good friends should do;We whistled and called and we played the kazoo.But alas it was all to no end, no avail:Lukas’s cat had quite fled the pale.

Of course, you know, we all kept looking,But after months of cooing and clucking,We began to forget—and there was the danger—What was its size? was it black, white, or ginger?And recruits would ask, as new recruits do,Is the story of Lukas’ lost cat really true?We’d shrug and sigh and shake our headsAnd forget to remember, and go back to our beds.We’d given it up as a hopeless causeWhen along came another creature on paws.And Lukas was joyous; he said, “Here at last!“This, my friends, is my beautiful cat!”But soon we found not all was as it seemed.There was a spy in our meetings—who would have dreamed?We began to point fingers—we suspected each otherAnd especially Xonos, who said we were a bother.But then our Mind Simulation tech disappearedAnd we discovered—by Lukas’ beard!—The cat was the culprit—but surely not she!Lukas’ cat was as faithful as faithful could be!But soon the mystery unveiled its true nature,Someone had planned to duplicate her—And they had succeeded—this cat that we trustedWas a clone of the old, just slightly adjusted!Part automaton, obviously, to act like that.And that’s the story of the steampunk cat.

But don’t despair, we have hope for Lukas(And cats, if they’ll stop getting infected by Rukas!)We’re sure that someday he’ll get his cat backAnd his inventions will stop falling all out of wack.